


and he still asks me to love him .

by romqntics



Series: and i’ll give you the sun (hp! rarepairs ) [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, American Dean, English Seamus, F/M, Fighting, Hogwarts is a private school, M/M, Marcus Flint needs to calm down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 05:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19457098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romqntics/pseuds/romqntics
Summary: my fav pairing ! ( lmao one of them ) take care of yourself !PLEASE leave comments ( and kudos ! )— bunny xx





	and he still asks me to love him .

**Author's Note:**

> my fav pairing ! ( lmao one of them ) take care of yourself ! 
> 
> PLEASE leave comments ( and kudos ! )
> 
> — bunny xx

Seamus doesn’t know when he falls into love with his best friend. Maybe it was when Dean cleaned his knuckles after a particularly bloody fight at the track, or when he slid on that sinful black dress: the one with the fabric that gleamed and shimmered under lowlights.

But Seamus can’t breathe when he’s with him, when he turns and forms his name with soft petal lips and white teeth. When he kisses the top of his head before he heads off to that Parisian gallery he loves so much. 

He doesn’t rememeber the way he lost himself in the cool wave of his best friend, but he certainly remember the nights that led up to it.

  * **** •**



“Shay. Shay, love ?”

Seamus is sleepy and half paying attention in their AP English class. He managed to stick along to the lecture, managed to hear the bit about heavy symbolism in  _ The Temptest  _ and  _ Hamlet.  _

He blinks blearily at the figure calling him softly. 

“Yeah?”

“Isn’t it just fantastic, love?  _ The Temptest  _ and  _ Hamlet?  _ Positively fantastic!”

Seamus doesn’t have the heart to tell Dean that this is absolutely the worst class out of everything their school offers. Instead he smiles smoothly and nods along. 

He lets the other boy chatter on, instead watching that horrible Marcus Flint, who’s been eyeing Dean since he transferred from Beauxbatons. 

“You have a fight tonight, right? Want me to come?”

A whistle comes from Marcus’ general direction and Seamus closes his eyes to calm himself down.

“Yeah! You should come! You could be the prize, yeah?”

Dean blushes in embarrassment and adjusts the scarf around his neck. Seams reties the bow for him and snaps his head around, glaring with the power of a thousand and one suns. 

“Stay in your damn lane until tonight, Flint.”

Marcus sneers at him but turns away nonetheless. Seamus spits at him and turns back to the boy in front of him. 

“Nah, doll. Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’ll win regardless.”

He ends the statement with a wink and lick of his lips. Dean blushes again and hits him with his copy of  _ Hamlet  _ before dashing off to Chemistry. 

  * **** •**



He’s beat Marcus, and has a damn bloody nose to show for it along with a cut along his arm. He knocks steadily on Dean’s dorm room, fairy lights winking at him slowly. 

He hears the shuffling of feet and a soft thump as something falls. The door swings open to reveal Dean in a sheer blue cover up, the top band of his Calvin Klein boxers showing, the brand name bolded. 

His curls are settled loosely around his face, bottom lip held tentatively between his teeth.

And Seamus just — 

“Well,  _ fuck.” _

Dean bursts into a light pink vision. He quickly hustles his best friend inside, muttering something in French about this damn boys and their need to fight. 

Seamus stifles a laugh and accepts the cup of tea he’s offered.

“They don’t fight it out in your country, doll?”

Dean waves the first aid kit threatenly in the air as he hisses lowly at him. 

“You are so lucky Charlie and Fleur are here right now, because  _ lord  _ help me!”

Seamus doesn’t quite manage to stop his chuckle, but to acquiesce he duitfully holds out his arm and says a thank you. 

Dean rolls his eyes and cleans and bandages the cut. He delicately touches Seamus’ broken nose and coos at him when he hisses a curse.

“Thanks, Dean-o.”

“Call me that name again, and I let you die next time.”

  
  


  * **** •**



Seams will admit that he’s a bit nervous, fingers practically crushing his corsage in one hand. He’s trying not to lose his shit, embarrassed at his date’s lack of show.

Flint and his crew are laughing in the corner. 

Fuck Parkinson anyway. He should have known she wouldn’t come. 

He’s ready to call it a very disastrous night, when the room hushes and he hears Flint let out a low whistle. 

That whistle means Dean.

He turns and promptly chokes on air.

Dean is decked out in a silk dress, black and smooth. It makes his skin shine in hues of chocolate and sun baked sands of a desert. His curls are loose and wild, framing those dark, dark eyes. 

He’s teetering in strappy heels, collar bones and shoulders bare except for a simple golden locket. 

As he moves toward Seamus, he notices how his cheekbones shine and glimmer, eyelashes thick and bold. 

_ Makeup.  _

“Hey, love. I — Fleur told me that, um, Pansy didn’t show. So I — I thought that if I came —”

Seamus finally realizes how fucking self conscious Dean must be right now and slides his arm around his waist. 

“Yeah, no, doll. You’re always better than fucking Parkinson.”

His voice is rough and his fingers are tight around Dean’s waist, eyes tracing the light gloss layer on his lips.

Dean grins softly and grabs a glass of cider. 

“Could say the same for you .”

Seamus more bares his teeth than laughs, effectively warning Flint and his cronies to stay in their corner.

There was no room for them here. 

  * **** •**



“Love, you know you need to go home for Thanksgiving.” 

Seamus moans and groans. 

“Would it help if I went with you?”

He shoots right up and looks at Dean in surprise. 

“You mean that, doll?”

He watches as his best friend does the little shiver he always does when Seamus says that pet name. 

“Um, yeah.”

Dean stretches on his tippy toes to get a mug on the top shelf . 

Seamus lays back down on the bedspread and thinks about it. His mum loves Dean and would probably burst in happiness. 

To her, Dean took care of him. And honestly that wasn’t the worst thought.

“Yeah, come with me, Dean-o.”

A towel comes flying at him.

Seamus dodges and laughs, 

“I have those fighter reflexes, doll! You can‘t — ”

And he promptly trips over Dean’s outstretched foot. Dean bursts into bright, bubbly laughter. 

Seamus grins from where he is and says, 

“Aw c’mon, doll. You know I’m always falling for you.”

The embarrassed kick of other boy’s foot is worth it. 

  * **** •**



“Dean-o!”

Fleur makes a fake retching noise as Seamus enters their dorm room. 

Seamus flicks her off with a laugh, and also receives another towel to the face. 

“Shay! That’s not a cute nickname! This is  _ not  _ becoming a thing!”

Seams just shrugs and grins mischievously.

“I just came to ask what you wanted for Christmas.”

Dean scoffs and turns to fix Fleur’s hair. 

“Nothing, Shay. Worry about your family.”

Seamus frowns and opens his mouth to say something, when Fleur suddenly rises and grabs his arm. 

Ignoring the protests that her braid isn’t done, she grabs a piece of paper and drags Seamus outside into the hallway. 

“Listen, ze is never going to say anything about what he wants,  _ oui?  _ So, I made a list of things ze’s always talking about wanting or buying. I made copies for his other friends because ze always asks for nothing.”

Seamus wants to kiss her, he’s so grateful. 

“You’re brilliant,” he says instead. 

“I know.” 

She winks and dips back inside the room, saying Seamus had some shopping for his mum to do. 

Seamus reads the list as he walks towards the stairs. 

_ HS1 vinyl, Glossier cloud paint, art stuff ( literally anything ), Portugal trip? _

Seamus opens the Amazon app on his phone and adds things to his cart. 

  * **** •**



“Doll. It’s fine if — ”

Dean glares at him. 

“You are learning to kiss a girl properly, you thick-headed pyro.” 

Seamus just smiles and raises his hands placatingly. 

Dean rearranges them so that he’s practically straddling Seamus, eyes dark and focused.

“Okay, show me how you usually kiss.”

Seamus breathes heavily and shuts his eyes, pressing his lips to Dean’s. 

Dean tilts his head and slowly nudges his lips apart with his tongue. Seamus forgets this is practice and kisses back with wholehearted enthusiasm, maneuvering so that he slips Dean underneath him. 

The other boy lets out a breathy little moan, fingers clutching the cracked leather of Seamus’ jacket. 

And Seamus thinks this is better than any fight he’s been in, pushing his hips against the other’s. This is better than any fight, better than the blood that drip down his knuckles. 

He nudged Dean’s cheek, asking permission to suck on his neck. Dean just lets him kiss and bite at the tender skin. 

Seamus is almost knocked dead when Dean rocks into his hand, ass full and plush.

He knows that if he doesn’t stop soon, there won’t be anything preventing him from going and going. 

He forces himself to break apart and looks at Dean. 

“Do you want me to stop , doll?”

Dean does that little shiver again, his oversized sweatshirt riding up to show his Aerie boxers. 

Seamus swears, his voice low and savage. 

“Do you want me to stop, love?”

Dean simply tightens his thighs around him and falls apart, shuddering around him. 

Seamus hums into his neck, fingers tracing the word princess into earthy skin, bucking up softly to provide friction. 

Kiss a girl, his  _ ass _ .

Dean keens and Seamus struggles to keep it together, interlacing their hands. 

“You like this huh, babe?”

Dean moans and clutches at him. 

This is better than any fight. 

  * **** •**



Seamus doesn’t give a fuck how whipped he seems, as Harry and Ron like to tease him. He just wants his boyfriend back. 

Dean is bound to arrive in five minutes, the knowledge sending his fingers tapping wildly on his legs. Charlie smiles at him, eyes telling him he knows the feeling. 

Dean and Fleur had gone to France together, so the weeks had been  _ long. _

He looks up to see people coming out, hugging family and friends. He itches to hug a certain artistic boy. 

Finally, a head of loose curls and another of golden waves bobs through. Charlie stands up straighter, if possible, running nervous hands through his hair. 

Fleur pops through first, flinging herself at her boyfriend. Dean quickly follows and practically launches himself into the air, mouth peppering Seamus’ face with tiny kisses. 

“I’m happy to see you too, doll.”

“I love you.”

Three simple words that send Seamus reeling, lips split into a large smile. 

“I love you too.”

Dean laughs in delight. 

Seamus hides his face in his shoulder. 

  
  


  * **** •**



The club is hot and humid, bodies gyrating on each other. Dean shines vividly, glitter decorating his cheeks and collar bones. 

He’s in a mesh top, long legs clad in tight jeans. Fleur is dancing with him, hair died blue at the tips, hips clad in a pair of short denim overalls. 

The music is loud, bass pounding through the floor. The ceiling is glass, sparkling with stringed lights and stars. 

And Seamus bites his lip  _ hard,  _ as Dean swivels his hips to the beat. He eventually makes his way over, fingers edging closer to Dean’s hip bone. 

Fleur grins and dashes off to find Ginny. Seamus says nothing, just mouths at the other’s neck, biting gently. 

There’s a broken hitch to Dean’s next breath and Seamus bares his teeth in a sharp grin. 

“Let’s go home, doll.”

Dean shivers.

  * **** •**



And so no, Seamus couldn’t tell you when he fell in love with his best friend. But he loves the feeling of rolling over in the morning, only to see the soft figure of his husband curled up next to him. 

He presses a soft kiss to his forehead, sliding out of bed to prep breakfast. As he waits for the stove to heat up, he waters the plants and opens the balcony windows.

Sounds of seven am Saint-Germain caress his ears, his body naturally relaxing as he feels hands slide around his chest. 

“Happy Anniversary, love.”

And Seamus turns to kiss him, fingers catching on the softness of his cheeks. He grins at the speck of acrylic paint on the other’s long fingers. 

And as the sun rises in Saint-Germain, Seamus lowers his husband to the floor, green eyes meeting dark, mouths meeting in a mutual prayer for light.


End file.
